


Happy Birthday Li'l Man

by ftmdave



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Angst, Friendship, Gen, Gender Dysphoria, Growing Up, Hurt/Comfort, Siblings, Slight Cursing, Transgender, ftm!dave
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-06
Updated: 2014-04-06
Packaged: 2018-01-18 11:01:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1426096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ftmdave/pseuds/ftmdave
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>You never did know how to handle your little brother. It wasn't that you didn't love him, but it wasn't easy. Still, you never gave up. Not ever.</i>
</p><p> </p><p>A coming-of-age story for a certain Dave Strider told from the perspective of his older brother. Through thick and thin, you--Bro--made sure he was happy. After all, he's the only family you've got.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Happy Birthday Li'l Man

"Dave?"

You knock on your brother's door, but the only reply you get is a half-hearted grunt. Deeming this enough of a response, you enter the room.

His room hadn't changed much over the years, aside from the addition of a few posters, different sheets, an updated computer, an extra fan, and a cork board with photos pinned to it. This was the newest feature, and something that you secretly look at when your little brother's not home. You truthfully like this one. Last year over summer break he and his three Internet friends had gotten together in Washington state at some guy named John's house. It was the only picture of all four of them Dave has, and you like it for some reason. It makes you happy to know that being home-schooled hasn't cut him off from the rest of the world like you feared it would.

The window is wide open, blood-reddish-orangey-yellow sunlight leaking its way in and casting long shadows on every surface it can manage with long inky fingers. Even a blind person can see the heat rising from the concrete, reflecting back the anger of the flaming orb slowly making its descent in the sky.

You find Dave slouched before his desk in the corner. Both fans in the room are facing him and going full blast, but even they can't quell the rising temperatures of a Texas July. Despite the fact that it's sweltering, Dave is wearing a loose hoodie and sweatpants. And he doesn't look all too comfortable.

"Aren't you hot?"

He shrugs and keeps staring at his computer screen. You sigh.

"Dave, if it's about the strife earlier, then I'm so-"

"It's not."

Those are the first words he's said to you in three days aside from his usual grunt as a greeting or asking what was for dinner. You stand awkwardly (in the most ironic way possible) in the doorway and wait for him to continue. He does.

"I'm on my period."

"Ah."

You know not to pry. He's always been moody or depressed when that time came around. Suddenly you have no idea what to say. "I thought they'd stopped."

That wasn't the right move. Dave scowls. "Yeah, well, they haven't."

He stands a bit too suddenly, having to grip the edge of his desk for support. You take a step forward but your brother's already waving your help away. You can see the outlines of his breasts through the hoodie as it tugs along his chest. Dave notices too and scowls, crossing his arms to hide them, but not without a slight wince.

You frown in concern. "No binder?"

"With that gash you managed on my side? No."

"I came to patch it up."

He nods sagely. You give him a questioning look and he nods again, going over to lie on the bed. You're beside him in a flash, already threading a needle.

Dave barely registers the pain as you pull away the bloody bandages and assess the damage. It's not nearly as deep as you'd feared. Good.

Making sure to keep his chest hidden from view, you disinfect and stitch up the wound. Dave doesn't even flinch. Years of training has done that to harden him up. This would be but one of many scars he would carry.

"So you're bleeding down there?" you ask.

He growls, "I don't want to talk about it."

"Isn't that something you may have to bring up to a doctor?"

"Nah. They said periods usually end after six-to-eight months. It's only been three and a half."

Three and a half months. You can only say that you are lucky your insurance covers most of the cost, else Dave wouldn't be going through with hormone replacement therapy now. You know testosterone is a privilege for some seventeen-year-olds in this world. Thank god you can provide this much.

The meticulous date keeping is newer. You can't help but note that. It's probably thanks to the Internet again. Dave began vlogging about it almost a year ago, the gender switch. It had been a suggestion from his friend John when he'd come out to everyone one day in a very violent rap after having a very bad case of dysphoria that had him locked away in his room for almost a week, only leaving to eat and use the bathroom, all while you were at work. That was almost three years ago and it still eats away at you sometimes, to know Dave had been that down and ready to give up.

"You know," you say as you reach for the first aid kit, "there's something else I've been meaning to say." When he doesn't reply, you add, "It may make you feel a bit better."

"I doubt it." But you know he's listening now.

You unravel the roll of bandaging. "Sit up a bit."

He complies, though not without a slight grimace.

"Well, I've been looking at out savings as of late, and I've almost got enough for you to get top surgery."

There is a terse silence.

You look up. "Dave?"

He's staring at you, the outline of his eyes visible through the shades. "Are you shitting me right now?"

"Language," you reply out of habit.

"Sorry." He's still looking at you with a pretty feeble attempt at hiding his actual happiness. "But are you saying that for real?"

"Would I joke about something like this?"

"True."

You continue as you finish wrapping the wound. "Anyway, I've got most of the money saved up. It'll probably be a couple more months until we can see a surgeon about anything, but I think it can happen before the end of the year."

You don't tell Dave that you've been working night shifts after he'd gone to bed, odd jobs, and selling those puppets you constantly make for those few extra bucks a week. But over the last two years the work was paying off. Seeing the barely-contained emotions on Dave's face made every laboring second worth it.

"Just," you say quietly, "promise me you'll hang in there until then. Got it, dorito?"

"Sure."

Seeing both of you had just used up your emotion quota for the month, you return to your usual Strider personas. He's back on his computer messaging a friend and you're leaving the room to order Chinese takeout. Again.

 

* * *

 

_You remember the day you got the phone call from the hospital. You'd just gotten out of class at the local community college and returned to an empty home. The news was heartbreaking. Your parents--your loving, dedicated parents--gone with a drunk driver behind the wheel of a truck._

_You didn't want to believe it at first. You were in such denial. But then a miracle._

_"Mr. Strider, your sister made it."_

_You didn't wait to hear the rest of the message. Your feet were carrying you out the door and into the car, racing to the hospital._

_She was there, a few slight bruises on her body, but nothing more. She had been in the backseat, mostly out of harm's way. You picked her up and she clung to you like no tomorrow._

_It was then that you decided you would protect her no matter what. You would train her to be tough, to be able to hold her own in the real world. You refused to let her out of your sight. No one would take her away from you._

_Selling the house was the easy part. So was dropping out of school. The hard part was everything after that. There were the money problems, and having to work a schedule so that she wasn't going to be alone all day, the child-proofing and potty-training and not-cursing-every-twenty-seconds self-control, the diaper changing and food preparing. All the little things so she wouldn't cry._

_But the day she tugged on your leg and smiled up was when you realized just how worth it it all was. She, after a year of silence, said one word._

_"Bo!"_

_It wasn't right, but you hugged her and hugged her and promised her you would never let her go, though it was obvious she had no idea what was going on._

_That was the first and last time you cried in front of her._

 

* * *

 

Dave had requested you not be in the room, which was understandable considering your brother didn't seem the type to be eager to show the world his chest, but it still bothered you that he was in a room with a complete stranger, no matter how professional said person was.

So there you are, using your expert sneaking skills to listen in on the conversation. It seems pretty basic, the surgeon talking as she took measurements and pictures. You could hear the beep and click of the digital camera through the door.

"Well David," the doctor says after what feels like forever, "I can say that you'll need a double incision mastectomy. Have you done some research on this, or would you like me to explain."

"I've looked it up a bit. Could you tell me a bit more about what you would do?"

This was the most polite tone you've ever heard Dave use. If it were you he was talking to, he would probably say something along the lines of, "Naw, s'cool. Unless you want to. Lay it on me, doc."

"Well, let's start with what you know."

"I know a double incision is more common. There are nipple grafts. Scars across the chest. But it's more accurate." He pauses. "Will I need a lipo for dog ears?"

"No, I don't think so. You're on the smaller side, and I can say that's probably muscle around there, not fat." You hear the doctor shift a bit from where she was sitting. "There's some chest reshaping involved as well, after the removal of the fatty breast tissue. The operation shouldn't take more than two hours.

"If you were interested, I could also do a keyhole instead. I wouldn't suggest it due to the lack of control with nipple placement, but there'd be a lot less scarring with it."

"I'm not concerned about the scarring, ma'am," you hear Dave say. "I mean, I've got them all over. What's a few more gonna do?"

"How did you get those scars, David?"

Oh shit. You know this tone. That's the tone that makes social workers congregate with enthusiastic child-napping fever. Fortunately, Dave knows this too.

"I do a lot of sports. Like, the more contact sort. A lot of them are from skateboarding and fencing without gear on." You could sense his shrug. "Silly things. I just scar easily 'cuz I'm so pale."

The doctor accepts it without question. You find yourself relaxing as they continue to talk options. This is when they call you in to talk cost and insurance. The insurance covers nothing; you're not surprised by it.

The appointment ends without a hitch. Everything is set. Three months, the doctor says. Three months and Dave'll be free. Even you can barely wait for that.

 

* * *

 

_It wasn't until she was in school that you started noticing some differences._

_They were nothing to concern yourself with. She was just more of a tomboy than the others, and you partially blame that on there being no maternal figure in the house. And that wasn't going to happen anytime soon seeing your own disposition. You were gay and not seeking anyone._

_It was awkward when she started noticing the differences in your anatomy at the age of four, pointing and babbling questions about your penis while showering until you managed to give her a simple (albeit child-friendly) talk about where babies came from._

_"Why don't I have a pee-pee like Bro?" she'd asked._

_"Because you're a girl," was your reply._

_She had pouted then. "I don't wanna be a girl. I wanna be tough and cool like you."_

_You chuckled. "Well, you can be, even if you're not a boy like me."_

_Her eyes lit up at those words. "Really?"_

_"Sure thing, kiddo."_

_After that you taught her the basics of strifing and sword fighting, hand-to-hand combat, even video games and skateboarding. She was a fast learner, a Strider through and through. When she turned six, you got her shades that matched your own._

_That was around when things started to really change._

_She downright began to reject skirts. You were shocked, but she made a valid argument. They got in the way during the daily activities she participated in. So came the no-skirts-only-pants policy in the house. Then the hair ties as she complained about hair getting in the way as well._

_At eight she asked to strife with you rather than the various combat dummies lying around the apartment. You tried to go easy at first, yet she was obviously taking it seriously. You made sure to use wooden blades and tried not to be too hard. That was, until she complained that she wouldn't get better if you kept "sugar coating everything."_

_You were both happy, going though life. Living on apple juice and take-out food while listening to music and watching movies afterwards. Life was good. Fun. Simple._

_You didn't notice the bullying until one day before a strife._

_She was on one knee, holding her side, yet you knew you didn't land a blow on her. You were by her side in an instant._

_"Let me see."_

_"I'm fine," she insisted, but the hiss through the teeth wasn't anywhere near convincing enough._

_There was a bruise on her side, purpling already against her pale skin. You were angry at the sight of it._

_"Who did this?"_

_"Nobody! I just fell during recess."_

_That was a lie. She was as agile as a gazelle._

_"Sarah…"_

_She turned away. "A few kids at school."_

_"Why?"_

_She didn't answer for a moment. You were about to push it further when she finally said, "Sammy, Julia, George, Katie. They said I was a freak because I didn't wanna play house."_

_Play house? You never did that, come to think of it. Nor did you play with dolls, or teach you li'l sis how to cook, or really anything relating to 'girly' things. You're so out of the loop with girls you weren't sure how to use a hair tie, let alone teach your sister how to use one._

_"So they hit you?" you asked._

_She hesitated even longer._

_"Tell me."_

_"I didn't want to be the mommy. I wanted to be the daddy."_

_That was all she said, looking down at her feet with such shame written across her face. You didn't know what to do, so you did what you could._

_"Here." You put your hat on her head, allowing a small smile when it slides down over her forehead. "Let's go out for dinner, talk things through."_

_"Go out?"_

_Those were the magic words. You nodded._

_"Yep. Anything you want."_

_"Pizza?"_

_You chuckled; you had pizza the night before. "You sure about that?"_

_A slight pause, then:_

_"Burgers and fries? With the chocolate milkshakes?"_

_"Why not."_

_"Is Li'l Cal coming too?"_

_"Only if you want. Now go get ready."_

_You two ended up not saying a word (or bringing Li'l Cal), but the comfortable silence was good enough for you. As long as she wasn't hurting as badly anymore, then you were happy. Though you were beginning to wonder if you were taking the right approach to this whole raising a girl thing. Perhaps you weren't exposing her to enough girly things after all._

_You spent a sleepless night debating this. The next day you bought her a dollhouse and a Disney princess movie. The first was never played with, collecting dust in the closet. The other was only watched once in which both you and she had agreed was way too cheesy to ever be dealt with again. Once again, you didn't think much of it. She would probably start growing out of all this once she hit puberty. Yes, you were sure of it._

_If only you'd known how wrong you were._

 

* * *

 

Today is a pretty boring day. It's your day off, a rare occurrence. Well, it is because even Striders can succumb to the evils of a common cold. You haven't done much except write some shitty comics and actually attempt at cleaning the kitchen a bit. For once, Dave decides to go out for a bit. You don't stop him as he leaves, promising to bring back dinner.

You are curled up on the couch, trying to get some shut-eye when a pinging sound comes from Dave's room. You ignore it, only to hear it again. And again. Pesterchum. Your brother must've forgotten to set his status to idle. Well, might as well do it for him, since the sound won't shut itself off.

Sighing, you force your sore body from the couch and flash step to Dave's room, almost running into the wall next to the door. You're glad no one is around to see that feat of unironic embarrassment. Except for Li'l Cal, but he gets you and won't tell a soul about this incident.

The computer, as you suspected, is on sleep mode. You jiggle the mouse to wake it. Dave's password, much like yours, is known mutually by both of you, yet you never hack on to each other's devices. It's just how the way things are.

Pesterchum is already open.

 

** ectoBiologist [EB] began pestering turntechGodhead [TG] at 17:52 **

**EB: hey dave!**

**EB: dude you there?**

**EB: i guess not. not that it really matters**

**EB: but i have something really important to tell you! :B**

You hesitate. You know you should just abscond, but your curiosity is getting the better of you. You've never met any of Dave's friends before. He's never had any in Texas. Hell, he never let you speak to any one of them. What other chance would you get?

**TG: Hey.**

**EB: oh hey there you are! you wont believe what just happened!**

**TG: Hate to burst your bubble kid, but this isn't Dave.**

A slight pause, then:

**EB: oh my god is this the infamous bro?**

You smirk a bit at that.

**TG: I don't know about infamous, but yeah, I'm Dave's Bro.**

**EB: wow!**

**EB: its nice to meet you i guess**

**TG: Same.**

**EB: ...**

**TG: Something up?**

**EB: no, but its just now that im actually talking to you, i have no idea what to say!**

Now you have no idea what to say. John's pretty much summed it up.

**TG: You could always tell me what it was you were going to tell Dave.**

**EB: oh, okay**

**EB: so i was talking to my dad today and he basically said that i can come down and visit like we talked about!**

**EB: though im not homeschooled so ill have to wait until next summer**

**TG: Visit?**

**EB: yeah dave and i were discussing having a meet-up with all our friends soon**

**EB: he said you were cool with it**

**TG: Oh really?**

Well, he certainly failed to mention that. Still, why not? You were cool with it, and Dave probably assumed it would be so.

**TG: I have nothing against it. When are you planning to come?**

**EB: well**

**EB: actually im not so sure yet. my dad hasnt given me an exact date**

**TG: It's cool kid. Whenever you get the info, shoot it over to us.**

**EB: ok, great!**

You're about to get off when you think of something else to say.

**TG: Hey, John.**

**EB: yeah bro?**

**EG: I just wanted to thank you.**

**EB: :?**

**EB: what for?**

**TG: For being Dave's friend. And accepting him for who he is.**

**EB: um, okay. that seems like a silly thing to be thanked for**

**TG: Really?**

**EB: yeah! i mean to me daves always been dave. i met him through jade a few years back and always assumed he was a boy**

**EB: when he came out it was a bit of a shock but it wasnt something bad or anything**

**EB: just new**

**EB: and that hasnt changed a thing about our friendship**

**EB: hell always be dave strider**

**TG: Well then, I guess I have to thank you for accepting him so quickly.**

**EB: eheheh sure thing :B**

**TG: I know you're the one who suggested he start a YouTube channel.**

**EB: oh yeah! we do colabs all the time, even with jade and rose! you should totally check it out!**

**EB: though a lot of our followers pair us together, so its a bit awkward...**

**EB: we even have a ship name**

**TG: Pepsi-Cola?**

**EB: how did you...?**

**TG: Found it the other day.**

**EB: oh**

**EB: well, thats embarrassing**

You smirk again. Then you hear the door open.

**TG: Looks like I gotta go. Dave's back.**

**EB: ok**

**EB: it was nice meeting you bro!**

**TG: Likewise.**

** ectoBiologist [EB] ceased pestering turntechGodhead [TG] at 18:00  **

Dave walks in, frowning.

"What the hell are you doing in my room?"

"Language."

He rolls his eyes and hands you a soup container.

"Wonton," he says. "Now get out."

You get up and ruffle his hair before making your way back to the couch and flipping on your Xbox. At least you've got time for that. And at least you know Dave's got a best friend. That's pretty awesome.

 

* * *

 

_It was the day after you first noticed some more shapeliness about your little sister. She was still slender and made of ropy muscles from the now-daily strifes, but there was definitely more softness around the hips and chest. She was a late developer, not truly getting noticeably feminine until she was almost fourteen. The periods had started, but she still had the physique of an adolescent boy. That was, until then._

_She seemed pissed when you mentioned it._

_The two of you were in the bathroom brushing your teeth. You where behind here, staring into the mirror. She was wearing what she always wore, a t-shirt and jeans, but it was obvious the shirt was a bit tighter around certain places than usual._

_You spat into the sink as she started to gargle water._

_"Looks like we'll need to be getting you some new clothes, sis," you'd said._

_She froze, almost choking. Spitting out the water, she glared up at your reflection. "What?"_

_You reach around her to the cup. "It's high time we get you something that fits your new contours."_

_"Why don't we not."_

_"Hm?"_

_She huffed, turning away from the mirror. "Why don't we just hide the contours instead?"_

_It had confused you, this statement. "Why? Afraid you'll get all the guys?"_

_"No!"_

_"…Afraid you won't get any guys?"_

_"I'm not interested."_

_You thought you got it for a second. "Ladies?"_

_"No."_

_"Really? A girl your age-"_

_"Bro, drop it. I'm serious."_

_She's not keeping her cool. Your sister practically stormed out on you, stomping a bit. You followed her a second later._

_"Okay, tell me what's wrong."_

_"Nothing!"_

_"Is it wrong to say, 'I doubt it'?"_

_She pulled her ponytail over her shoulder with a harsh jerk. "Maybe."_

_You continued to follow her all the way to her room. "Look, if you're a lesbian that's okay. You know how I am."_

_"It's not like that! You don't understand!"_

_"I'm trying," you insisted, but she just seemed to get angrier. You sighed. "Sarah-"_

_"DON'T" she shrieked, "_ **_FUCKING_ ** _CALL ME SARAH!!!"_

_You were more confused than ever before. So confused, in fact, that you didn't even have the heart to chastise her for her language. Your sister was panting, glaring at you through her new shades (courtesy of her friend John)._

_Suddenly, in a much smaller voice, she said,"That's not my name."_

_You leaned down so you two were eye level. You gaged her reaction carefully. "What do you mean by that?"_

_"My name's Dave, okay. Dave Fucking Strider. And I'm NOT a girl. Got it? Good. Now fuck off."_

_And with that she slammed the door in your face._

_You weren't even controlling your body, just going through the motions. Somehow you found your way to the living room, completely ignoring Li'l Cal's blue gaze. Sarah…Dave?_

_Then all the pieces started to add up. You fell onto the couch as your knees gave out in the most unStriderlike manner possible. How did you not notice? How did you not fucking notice?_

_"Shit," you muttered, raking a hand through your hair. This was not good. Now you just pissed off you only sibling._

_You got up after several long minutes, grabbing your keys and heading out. Might as well hit the pizzeria and the corner store. You sure as hell wasn't cooking that night._

_. . . . ._

_"Open up," you stated, knocking the door._

_"Go away!" was the reply._

_You ignored the command and opened the door. "Dinner."_

_The bed's occupant finally looked up and acknowledged your existence. You came in with a box of pizza and a pair of scissors. You even managed a bottle of apple juice._

_"What's that for?" was the first real question asked._

_"The pizza 'cuz it's time for dinner. The AJ 'cuz that'll make it easier to swallow it all down."_

_"And those?"_

_The scissors. You shrug. "People tend to confuse guys with long hair for girls. It's about time you got a haircut." You pause. "Dave."_

_The name sounds so clipped, your tongue unfamiliar with the way it rolls off of it, but the sudden shift in you sister's attitude--from confused to hopeful--makes you know you did the right thing._

_No, brother. This is your brother now._

_You sat down on the bed and she--no, he--scooted to the floor. Years of cutting your own hair made this chore a whole lot easier. It didn't take long to fashion some descent haircut with bangs. It could be teased to look like yours with some gel, but he refused saying he preferred the natural look. You decided not to argue._

_"I don't really like your name," you said right after the haircut._

_He froze. "Why not?"_

_"Because 'Fucking' isn't a decent middle name. At least make it something normal, like Bob or something."_

_"Bob?" he'd asked, incredulous, but the subject was dropped for a later, indefinite date._

_Not much changed after that day. Except maybe the confidence level of the younger Strider. You have to admit that the copious amounts of selfies that pop up in the months after the haircut are quite funny. Ironic, even. And boy, do you ever like irony!_

_Soon after that, though, came the harder parts. Such as having Dave out of the school where the bullies were to one on the Internet. The binders. The dysphoria and the mood swings and depression that came with it. Still, you did it because this was your brother. You loved him dearly._

_Life continued normally after some time in the Strider home. Still, it was a hard road to travel, both for you and Dave._

 

* * *

 

The car ride was too long and an awkward silence is forming between the two of you.

"You okay?" You finally try to start a conversation.

"Fine."

You glance over at your brother. He refuses to meet your gaze, favoring the city passing by outside.

"Dave."

He turns slightly. It's all the acknowledgement you get.

"Everything'll work out, okay?"

"I know."

He was trying to keep his cool-kid façade on, but you could tell he was nervous. His entire body seemed tense. He was glancing at his phone in his lap every two seconds, hoping a friend would be online. You knew that wasn't happening. It was a weekday, and they were probably all in school. Or asleep, seeing as Jade lived on an island somewhere in the Pacific.

"Talk to me, Dave," you say, borderlining a command.

He sighs. "It's nothing."

"You look ready to give up on this."

"I'm not." But the reply was too quick. Dave knows. He fidgets a little.

"I've never been completely under before. I'm worried."

You reach over and ruffle his hair, hearing a disgruntled sound from Dave. It makes you chuckle.

"Relax, li'l bro. It'll fly by. They'll tell us all the procedural things there."

"I know all that stuff," he muttered.

You two fall silent again, this time much more awkwardly. It doesn't help that there's practically nothing you can do. Not even let Dave have something to drink. The drive on the highway is one that is so uneventful there's no point in irony. It's just boring.

You get to the hospital, park, and take one last look at Dave. He's staring intently at his phone, which lit up.

"Friend?"

"Rose." He turns to you. "She figured you were trying to give me advice and told me I should listen."

"Damn straight. C'mon."

The two of you get out of the car and head inside. The place is nice: white, roomy, clean. And with so many places to hide. But you promised yourself you wouldn't do anything like that today. So you walk to the information desk. The woman there points you to an elevator.

"Fifth floor. Good luck." She directs that straight at Dave.

He flinches, but nods. "Thanks."

"Sure thing, sweetie."

In the safety of the elevator he rolls his eyes.

"Sweetie? Did she really just call me that?"

You look down at him. "They all do that. Sweetie, dear, honey. Doesn't matter who you are."

"Ouch."

"Right?"

The doors open with a ping. There is a desk almost right by it. A clipboard. Lots and lots of information. You sigh and motion Dave to sit as you pull out insurance papers. Tedious, yes. You don't understand why there isn't an easier way to do it. Once it's done you take a seat beside Dave, who found a nifty corner away from kids with only two seats.

You both sit in the waiting room, neither of you moving. You're entertaining yourself with some celebrity gossip from one of the month old magazines sitting around, while Dave begins texting someone. He only stops when his name is called.

He stands, shooting out one last text as the nurse beckons him in with a smile. He dumps in phone in your lap and turns to go. You are allowed to follow.

It begins with visiting an attendant. You go over allergies, surgeries, previous medical history, another mountain of paperwork in a small office before being lead to a long room lined with beds surrounded by curtains. From there you both meet the anesthesiologist, who explains exactly what she'll be doing to keep Dave under, and one of the assistant surgeons. 

Dave is asked to undress and put on a blue gown. He gets out after five awkward minutes, handing you all the clothes in a provided plastic bag.

"Should I toss the binder?" you ask.

"Nah. I read somewhere it's good to bind for a bit after the scars heal."

"Right."

You two stand in awkward silence until he sighs and removes his shades, handing them to you. "Keep an eye on these, will ya?"

"Of course."

Satisfied, Dave allows himself to be I.D.ed, a plastic tag around his wrist. He is asked to get comfortable in one of the beds. An I.V. is in his arm and he is left there with you. Again, neither of you speak. A nurse comes by to make sure everything's in order.

"The doctor is just about ready. The room is prepped."

"Thank you," you say.

"Good morning Mr. Strider!"

You both recognize the doctor getting into swabs. She smiles and waves.

She asks Dave, "Ready?"

"I guess so."

"Great! I'll see you in a few minutes," she says before heading off somewhere past the double doors.

"Anything you'd like to say before we get started?" the nurse asked.

You shrug and get over to where Dave is. He looks up at you, eyes startling red against his pale face and even paler sheets. He swallows, eyes telling you all he actually feels without their usual line of defense.

"Hey," you say, leaning down so his ear is by your mouth. "Chill. You'll do fine."

"I won't be doing anything," he replies, but you feel him squeeze your hand for reassurance before they wheel him in.

You know exactly what'll come next. They'll do some last-minute preps, check everything's in order. Then the anesthetics. Dave'll be out for two, maybe three hours. They'll cut out the extra tissue, reshape everything, graft nipples on. You know this, but you're heart is still beating in your throat.

You didn't want to admit it, but you were just as scared as Dave looked.

 

* * *

 

_You weren't an alcoholic, but there were some days that drinking seemed the only solution. Tonight just happened to be one of those nights. You had just lost one of your two part-time jobs, and it so happened to be the one with the higher paycheck of the two. All thanks to the failing economy._

_You hadn't been expecting this setback. Now came all the questions. Would you be able to pay the bills next month? What about the online school for Dave? Internet? Phone? Would you have to go into the savings?_

_You should've faced those daunting questions head-on, but you were a coward today and took the easy way out. After several hours and an utterly stupid amount of liquor intake at a local bar, you somehow managed to find your way home in a drunken stupor. It took three attempts to get the key in the lock. You grumbled all the while about inconveniences._

_Dave was still up, though it was past 2AM. He looked pissed._

_"Where the fuck have you been?"_

_"Lang'age."_

_His nose wrinkled. "How much did you drink?"_

_"Enough."_

_You collapsed onto the couch with a groan. Dave scoots over slightly._

_"What's wrong?" he asks almost immediately. "You never get drunk."_

_"'S none'r your business," you slur._

_"It is if that means child services'll get called on your ass."_

_You tsked. He frowned._

_"Seriously Bro, we don't want another incident. What the hell happened?"_

_"Lost m'job."_

_"Which one?"_

_"The one 'n the shop."_

_Now it was his turn to look a bit worried, despite his impassive face. Dave knew that was the better of your two jobs too._

_He seemed upset. "How're we gonna manage?"_

_"We will."_

_"Yeah, but how?"_

_You sat up a bit. "We'll go into savings a bit. 'S not much, but we'll make do with what we've got."_

_Dave was then obviously upset. "You said you wouldn't touch that money, no matter what. That's for the future."_

_"Tough, kid."_

_"Why don't we just sell some crap we don't need. Like your stupid puppets, or all those shitty swords we've got lying around."_

_You ignored him, but he's still talking._

_"Besides…you promised that'd be for when I start T."_

_You probably would've stood to reason then if it hadn't been for the booze addling your mind. Instead you said, "That shit don't matter right now."_

_Dave snapped. "Yes it does! It matters a lot!"_

_"No it don't, an' ya know it!"_

_"But you promised-"_

_"Well, tough. We can't get everything we want."_

_"But you've gotten me just about everything. All the little things. We can do something else. Get dial-up internet, downgrade our phones, cut cable-"_

_"Dave, that's enough."_

_"-or I could get a job. I could work fast food. It's not hard work-"_

_"Dave."_

_"-we could rent a smaller apartment. There're loads around here that are cheaper!"_

_"Dave!"_

_"I'll do anything! Just please don't go into those savings."_

_"ENOUGH!" you roared. "I don't care how much you wish it, 'cuz it just won't 'appen! We need the money. You weren't born a boy, and you can't be one no matter how much you pretend! So why'n't cha stop pretending, act like a LADY for once, an' make it easier for the whole damn world!"_

_The moment those words leave you you instantly regret it._

_Dave stares, stares at you for so long you thought his eyes would bore into your soul. Your throat tightened as you saw the utter betrayal written across his face._

_"Dave-"_

_He got up and walked to the sink, filling a glass with water before slamming it down on the coffee table before you._

_"Sober up."_

_And with that he's gone. You stood to go after him, but the world began to spin and you felt your balance go. There was a crack and a sharp twang of pain through your temple, and you soon faded into black oblivion._

_. . . . ._

_The next morning had you groaning from the headache. The lights were too bright, though you notice the curtains have been drawn for one. Probably Dave. Your suspicions were confirmed when you found another glass of water and a bottle of aspirins on the table. There was also a first-aid kit with the bandages missing, wrapped around your head wound._

_Guilt crawled up your spine as you stared at those simple things. Aspirins and water and bandages. So silly. Yet Dave still cared enough to leave them out for you, to patch you up and make sure you were okay. Even after you ruined everything._

_You didn't cry. You weren't going to cry, not now when you weren't the one that was to be pitied. It was your fault. All of it. Everything._

_You stood, legs carrying you straight to his door. The plain white wood seemed to glare back at you. You stood in front of his door with your hand up to knock, but you didn't. You knew he knew you're there; you didn't make any effort to be evasive this time._

_"Dave, I know you're in there," you began. A pause. "I don't expect you to come out. Just hear me out._

_"Everything I said to you last night, every single word, I regret more than I can verbally explain or physically show or emotionally give. I take it all back._

_"I understand that the damage I've dealt this time…there's no easy way to fix it. I can't just patch it up like a blade wound and say it'll heal over in a few days. This could be permanent, and it's all my damn fault."_

_You could hear him shift slightly on his bed, breathing shallow._

_You swallowed a lump in your throat and finish thickly, "I may never be able to fix this, but I promise you that I will do everything in my power to make up for it. To fix whatever I can. You are no less of a man, and don't you dare let anyone tell you that. Ever. I just hope you can find it in you to forgive me._

_"I hope you know I care. Truly, I do."_

_You flash stepped out of the hallway before he could confront you. But not before you heard a tiny, "Yeah."_

_One week later you made sure Dave found the new binders and ten bottles of apple juice left in various ironic places. He made no comment, but you could tell all had been forgiven._

 

* * *

 

You have your hands folded, fingers interlocking, elbows propped on your knees and head in your hands while your foot bobs up and down in sporadic intervals. Around you are others, but you haven't looked up since Dave left. The waiting room seems too big and too empty. Too much space for the fear to make its way in.

"Mr. Strider?"

You look up the moment the nurse calls your name. She notices your move and comes over, a smile on her face.

"How are you, Mr. Strider?"

"Fine." It sounded too short. "Dave…?"

"Your brother's just waking up. He's doing really well."

A sigh. You release a breath, body suddenly going less tense. You never realized just how worried you had been.

"Can I see him?"

"If you'd like."

You don't even hesitate, striding after the nurse as quickly as you can. Several doors and a hallway later, there's a large area with many curtains pulled shut around beds. The nurse peeks into one before opening it for you to step in. You do so.

Dave looks up, slightly disoriented from the painkillers still swimming through his system. His eyes are glassy, and his smile is unnaturally big.

"Hey Bro."

"Dave."

You don't say anything else, suddenly awkward. Dave doesn't seem to notice, though the nurse does. She smiles and pats you on the shoulder. You try not to flinch.

"I'll give you two a minute."

"Thank you," you manage, and she leaves.

You sit in the chair next to the bed. How conveniently located this chair happens to be. He just watches you with his unfocused eyes. You dig into your pocket and pull out the camera, quickly beginning to record just like he asked.

"Morning, sleeping beauty," you begin.

"'Sup?"

"Nothin' much. Here," you say after a moment, pulling his shades out from your pocket. "I held onto them just like you asked."

Dave takes them. "Thanks Bro. Forgot how bright these fucking ceiling lights can be."

"Language," you scold, but you're honestly too happy to care. You clear your throat. "So how're you holdin' up, li'l dorito?"

Dave turns to you and gives you a big soppy grin. You haven't seen him smile like that since he was young, maybe five. It's identical to the one he had when you said he didn't have to wear skirts anymore.

You try not to dwell on the thought.

"I'm fine. Really tired, though."

"You seem drowsy."

"Mmm."

Dave shifts slightly on the pillows. You both see where some of the bandages come up from above the hospital gown. He peeks down and his grin becomes slightly wider, if possible.

"It looks flatter," he finally deems after a few long moments.

You nod in agreement. "Certainly looks flatter."

"It feels like a dream," murmurs Dave, "but it's not, is it?"

You shake your head.

"I dreamed of fire."

"Oh?"

His head lulls a bit to the side as he speaks. "Yeah. There was lava everywhere, and it was burning all the trees and there were things dying. But then there was the sky. It was blue, but then it turned gray. The clouds, it began to rain. And all the lava cooled into obsidian. And then it was snowing."

You have absolutely no idea what he's even talking about, and from the way he's smiling you are quite sure he's in the exact same state of confusion as you, only less aware of it. You're very glad you have the video camera capturing this moment.

"You're gonna have so much fun editing this, ya know?"

"Hmm," he hums, still smiling. "Just lemme take a quick nap. I'll do that tomorrow."

You snort and let him drift off, shutting off the camera while you're at it. No point in embarrassing the poor kid anymore.

 

* * *

 

_"Dave?"_

_You entered the house and found it oddly silent. You fist bumped Li'l Cal as you passed him on the couch before setting the deli sandwiches on the kitchen counter._

_"Dave? You here?"_

_You half-expected him to come leaping out from the one of the hiding spots in the ceiling and strife, but nothing happened. You peek down the hallway and see that the light to the bathroom is on. Perhaps he was taking a shower._

_You shifted down the hall with your inhumane speed and rap lightly on the door. There's no reply._

_"Dave? I wanna take a shower, so not too long, okay?"_

_Still no reply. You figured he was just listening to music again and lost track of time. This had happened before, and you kicked down a perfectly good door on your half-naked brother texting. That wasn't a good day._

_You gathered a fresh set of clothes and found your towel. You knocked on the bathroom door again, but harder this time._

_"Dave? Open up!"_

_"Shit!" you heard from the other side of the door. Then the slightly coppery smell you recognized all-too-well hit you._

_You broke the lock, slamming the door open with force. Dave dropped the razor with a clatter, a towel already on his bloody wrist._

_"Dave! What the hell is this?!"_

_"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he muttered, a mantra._

_You shushed him as you wrapped you larger hands over the wrist. He's shaking, staring at the red splotches on it._

_"Dave," you said as calmly as you could, "I want you to reach over into that cupboard and grab the antiseptic and rubbing alcohol. There should be a roll of bandages there too." When he doesn't respond, you said much more harshly, "David Strider!"_

_He snapped out of his trance and went for the cupboard, taking out everything you said to. You moved him to sit on the toilet as you pulled away the towel. Dave hissed when you put a generous amount of rubbing alcohol onto his cut, but you ignored him and continued to methodically rub away at the cuts. Thankfully they're not too deep._

_As you began to smear copious amounts of antiseptic onto them, he starts to apologize again, but you cut him off._

_"Don't. You hit a rough patch and didn't know what to do. I'm sorry I wasn't here for you to talk to."_

_Dave nodded and chewed his lower lip raw as you finished bandaging up the area. You patted the wrist when you were done and began to clean up._

_He stood and left the room without a word of thanks. You didn't see him that night, nor the next morning when you went to work. Or that night when you came home, nor the morning after that. He only came out for food and strifes, and every fight was sloppy and uncoordinated. It wasn't until you found he'd uploaded a new video two days later that you'd heard his voice._

_"Hey guys, Dave again. So, I know I haven't been making a lot of videos lately. Sorry. I noticed people have been wondering how I've been, and…well…"_

_He paused, sighed, and held up the bandaged wrist._

_"Not fuckin' fine."_

_You stared at the screen, but didn't comprehend any of it. It was sinking in, all the way to your churning gut, that this wasn't something you could fix with a few binders and some pep talks. No, this was more serious than that._

_You grab the phone book nearby. It was time to find some help. Professional help._

 

* * *

 

You hold the camera up. It's yours because Dave's portable one broke and he requested for this to be recorded for his followers. At least yours has HD like no other; Dave's doesn't and didn't even compare. You hit the record button.

"Is that thing recording?" he asks after a few seconds.

"Maybe."

Only you can tell he's glaring behind the shades because you know your brother so well.

"Nervous?" you ask.

He shrugs, as inconspicuous as ever. "Kinda."

"You should smile," you suggest. "Show your fans your pearly whites."

"Keep talking and I'll edit you out of the video."

You can't help but snort a bit, which you know the camera picks up. Dave gives you a shit-eating grin before leaning back in the chair.

"I saw those teeth."

"Bro. Shut up."

"Commanding me now, I see."

"I'm doing the world a favor."

The basic things happen afterwards. One of the surgeon's assistants comes in. He cuts off the foam shield layer, all the while explaining some basic things, such as what it'll feel like to take the drains out. Dave just nods, his nose wrinkling slightly.

You ask. "Something up?"

"I smell," he mutters.

The assistant laughs. "Yeah, we get that a lot. Since you can't take a shower or anything for the week. No worries, it's perfectly normal. You're on the better side if it makes you feel any better."

"Not really," was Dave's reply, which made the man laugh again.

"The doctor'll be in in a minute, 'kay?"

You both nod, thanking him before he leaves the room. You and Dave sit in an awkward silence. Ace bandages still cover his chest. Thankfully, the silence isn't very long as the surgeon comes in. She smiles, greets you both and shakes your hands before turning her undivided attention to Dave.

"Well there he is, the man of the hour! How're you feeling, David?"

He shrugs to the best of his ability. "Not bad. How're you?"

"Very good, thanks. Any complications, complaints?"

He shakes his head.

"Did you need those painkillers?"

"I had a pretty bad reaction to them, so I didn't take any after the first day."

You stifle a snort, making Dave glare once again in your direction. That much was true. He had pretty much hallucinated and began to pester all of his friends. You managed to hack the system and read all of his messages, which you now use to your advantage.

The doctors don't notice this exchange.

The surgeon claps her hands together and smiles. "Now let's get you out of all that!"

Dave is forced to sit up slightly as both doctors go about unraveling the smelly bandages. Once they're off, she peels off the longer strips covering the stitches. Then she gets the two white squares over the nipples. Next came the drains.

"This might hurt a little."

You can tell from his face that it didn't.

She clicks her tongue and makes verbal notes. "Well, I'm glad to say there're no torn stitches, not too much swelling either, though you'll probably still be bruised for another week or so. Both nipple grafts came out looking good and even. I think you'll heal up very nicely."

"Would you like to see your reflection?" asks her assistant.

Dave nods. They both help him out of the chair and in front of the full-length mirror hanging near the door. From where you're sitting the camera is able to catch both the front and the side view very nicely.

"Lookin' good," you say, your first words in almost five minutes.

Dave doesn't even bother to respond. Not that you can blame him.

The doctor was rambling on about some things that needed to be done, like taking care of the scars so they heal well and how to shower correctly, but you notice your little brother's not paying attention. He's just staring at himself in the mirror.

"Dave?"

Dave still doesn't respond. The doctor stops talking too.

"Mr. Strider? David, are you alright?"

He bites his lower lip slightly, and you can see that it's quivering.

"Dave?" you inquire again. "You okay, li'l bro?"

Dave takes a breath and you're shocked to find it was a shuddering one. He exhales sharply, taking another gulping breath. A hand goes up to his face, covering his mouth, before he sniffles. From under his shades comes a trickle of wetness.

A tear.

You jump a bit at the realization. Dave…crying? You hadn't seen him cry since before everything: the coming out, the therapy, the hormones. And yet here he is, completely defenseless. You aren't sure how to act.

"Dave…"

"I'm sorry," he chokes out. "It's just…I've never felt so…so…"

He just gestured at the mirror. No words.

You stand up and set the camera down on the chair at an angle where you know everything's still visible. Then you make your way over to Dave. You haven't given him a hug in years, but he accepts it readily, leaning into your shoulder with both hands over his mouth and nose, a few more tears visible now.

This was the first and last time you'd see tears of joy from Dave. Somehow, it was enough. It was more than enough.

The two of you stand there, staring in the mirror, you rubbing your hand up and down his arm comfortingly while he recovers. The shades come off long enough for him to wipe off his eyes and laugh a bit.

"What?" you ask.

"Not much of a Strider now, am I?"

You chuckle. "Nah, you're fine. Still pretty short, though."

He scowls. "Fuck off," he mutters so only you can hear.

"Language."

You back away and sit back down. The camera is angled back on Dave, who has somehow managed to control his emotions again.

"You okay?"

He nods, though you can see the edge of his lip quirk up into a half grin. You can't help but smile too, for his sake, as the doctor finishes her rambling and eventually you leave. You don't turn the camera off until you're both in the car, asking Dave, "So what d'ya thing?"

Dave nods as he slumps into the passenger seat. "Pretty ironic."

You don't question how irony plays a part in this, even though you're quite sure it doesn't. You just start driving, Dave looking out of the window. You notice he seems to be sitting up a little more already.

When you pull up to the apartment, neither you nor Dave say much until you both enter the apartment. He makes his way towards the bathroom to take a shower, while you make yourself comfortable on the couch and go back to sewing a puppet.

Life continues almost unchanging in the Strider household. Dave edits and posts videos, you continue to work, both of you lay some sick beats every so often. It's pretty boring, especially since you both are on strife break for the next two months until Dave's healed up. Neither of you are risking this one.

 

* * *

 

_You really didn't like the idea of having a family therapy, but the psychologist had insisted you sit in this session too. You sat next to Dave on the couch with the doctor sitting in front of you. He looked at you with intense eyes._

_"You must be wondering why I called you in here too, Mr. Strider?"_

_"A bit," you replied._

_He nodded. "Well, I was talking to Dave last week and I was thinking about the family dynamic. Especially when talking about his identity."_

_You glanced at Dave sideways as he averted his gaze from your eyes. "Oh?"_

_"I was just wondering how you feel about all of it. In all honesty."_

_"What does it matter?" you blurted out. "I mean, as long as he's happy, that's all that matters."_

_"I understand. But you see, I'm afraid that Dave doesn't feel completely supported. And it's very important that when we recommend something as big as hormone replacement therapy or any sex change operations that ones family supports them full-heartedly so the person undergoing the changes has someone close they can talk to."_

_You were looking at Dave now. "Is that true?"_

_He still wouldn't look at you, but he bit his lip raw._

_"He mentioned a time when you were drunk."_

_Shit, not that night again. You cleared your throat. "That was my fault. I'd just lost my job and I was worried I wouldn't be able to provide for Dave. I had a really close call with social workers before when he was still a toddler because of my work schedule. I didn't want to go through that."_

_"Wait, what?"_

_Dave was stunned. You never told him about this._

_The other dude didn't seem to notice. "Very well. I can say that Dave mentioned he was hurt by this."_

_You sighed. "Dave, listen to me."_

_He finally looked up._

_"Look, I know I'm not the best parent, or brother, or anything. I know I've been harsh. I know I've done wrong lots of times. But believe me when I say I will do everything I can to make you happy. Got it?"_

_"But-"_

_"Dave, if I didn't love you I'd have probably gotten rid of you before you were old enough to know the difference between male and female," you stated. "You're all the family I've got left. Besides, I just wanna make sure you can live the life you want to. That nothing's holding you back. Especially something as silly as gender."_

_The shrink squinted a bit more at you, but you hardly care. You saw Dave's body relax slightly as he turned back to the other man._

_"Cool."_

_"We good?"_

_"Yeah."_

_The guy sitting across from you seemed lost, but he quickly recovered and began asking about how you plan on paying for testosterone, what Dave's social life is like from your perspective, how you feel about everything. You answered as truthfully as you could without the usual bullshit. This was important._

_After the appointment, when the two of you were safely back in the car, Dave began to ask the questions._

_"What did you mean about the social workers?"_

_No use hiding it now. You started the car and began to talk._

_"It was a while back. You were two. I decided to quit my job and get a new one because I was working in a really shady shop that I knew was affiliated with drug dealers and illegal immigrants. Well, a week after I left they got busted. The police went through all the old employee files, deported a bunch of dudes. My name was still on file. So they took me into custody and you were taken to a social worker._

_"I was lucky, though. The officers knew our parents, knew we were good folk. I was out in a week after all the drug tests and a polygraph." You make a turn before finishing. "I moved out of that area soon after. Got the place we're in now. A friend of a friend knew a guy who was hiring at the garage I worked at."_

_"Why didn't you tell me this?"_

_He sounded so hurt, so betrayed._

_"Because we didn't have to deal with that anymore. I got you back, and that was good."_

_"Yeah, but why didn't you leave there earlier?"_

_"What was I supposed to do, Dave? I was nineteen. I had no credentials, no real education. If it wasn't for the fact that I did know my way around a few machines you would've been living with some other people. That was all I could do. I didn't want to lose you."_

_Dave nodded, accepting you answer. "Thanks, Bro."_

_You exhale sharply. "Sure thing, kiddo."_

_You left with the prescription in your hand and a letter to the endocrinologist you two'd be visiting in a few days. And when you did, it went smoothly. A few blood tests with results back within a week. During that time you finally managed to get a second job as a mechanic, as well as DJ-ing three nights a week at a bar. It wasn't the best work, but it paid the bills and got some extra money in the bank._

_Dave proudly showed YouTube his first injection. And you were there behind the camera._

 

* * *

 

Before long it's December, the third, exactly one month after his surgery. Dave's in his room filming a bit. You knock on the door. "Dave?"

He opens the door and you see the camera's still rolling. "'Sup?"

"I wanted to head out for a bit. Mind joining me."

He's confused. You never ask him to tag along. But he plays with you in the sake of appeasing you.

"Fine. Gimme a second to get a shirt on."

He cuts the video and gets ready to go. You wait patiently. Today is December 3rd. His 18th birthday. You aren't going to fuck this one up.

He grabs a jacket and pulls it over his t-shirt. "Where're we headed?"

"It's a secret," you say before casually pulling out a blindfold. "I want you to put this on."

"What?"

"Trust me, Dave."

He huffs. "Fine. But wait until we get to the car, alright?"

You shrug. "Sure."

Once you lock up and get in the car the blindfold is on. The drive is fairly long, and Dave only bothers to ask you once what it is your planning. You don't give him a response. He chooses to ignore you instead.

When at your destination, you debate whether to park the car in the parking lot or just pull up by the doors. You do the latter. Best hurry before angry travelers mob your car.

"We're here," you say.

"I figured."

Dave gets out after you shut the engine, listening to his surroundings. It's pretty obvious where you are, and it's pretty obvious he's confused by it. You tap his shoulder and lead him inside. Sliding doors open and shut. He's standing there awkwardly, but you see the three faces you were looking for in the waiting area. You beckon to them.

"Sorry to keep you all waiting," you call.

"Can I take off my blindfold yet?" he mutters. "We're in the airport. I could hear the planes."

And then he stops talking as someone slams into him with an oof. You can't help but chuckle as Dave rips off the blindfold. He's lying on his back and a bunch of people are staring.

"The fu--Harley?"

"Hi Dave!" the girl practically squeaks, getting off of his chest and helping him to his feet.

He's definitely in shock. "What are you doing here?"

"You probably should be asking a more inclusive question on the line of, 'What are you three doing here?'"

You turn to where another girl and a boy approach. They're dragging luggage with them, the boy an extra one that you assume is Jade's, left behind when she decided to tackle your brother.

"Rose?" He addresses her, then the person next to her. "John?"

John waves happily. "Good to see you Dave! Oh, and before we forget…"

"Happy birthday!" they chorused, all elbows and smiles.

"Um, yeah."

You can tell he's still not aware of what's going on. Dave turns to you, but not before retrieving his shades from his pocket and putting them back on.

"What is the meaning of this?" he demands.

"Remember that one day I was sick?" He nods. "Well, I went on your computer and talked to John. He mentioned coming over during the summer, but then I thought why not do it on your birthday. I contacted Jade and Rose, then called their parents. They made the arrangements."

Dave just stares. "You guys…"

"We really wanted to see you again," says Jade. "And since I'm homeschooled too, it didn't really matter when I came. And I've never seen snow before!"

"Tough luck kid, there ain't no snow here," you reply.

"Aw. Bummer."

Dave turns to the other two. "School?"

"Ditched." John grimaces, but his smile is soon back. "Look man, we wanted to be here for you. Our parents okayed it and so did your Bro. Besides, it's only a couple weeks before winter break. It's not like we're doing much of anything."

Rose continues in agreement. "We all have satisfactory grades and parents who actually care about our social lives. Considering we're all the only friends one another has, it made sense to strengthen those bonds."

"That doesn't sound very positive, Rose."

"Yeah. It's like deep down you don't care about us."

"On the contrary, I care about all three of you a great deal."

"Hush!" Dave states, causing them all to stop talking. "I'm still trying to register this all. How long'll you be staying?"

"The rest of the week!" John replies. "Just think, it'll be like celebrating Rose's and Jade's birthdays too!"

"So what, we'll watch shitty movies and eat junk food and blow out some candles?"

They all agree with him. You move towards the doors, getting all of their attention.

"Everyone got their bags? Good, 'cuz we should be heading out. I'm parked illegally."

They gather everything fairly quickly. Suitcases in the trunk, guests in the backseat, Dave in passenger, and you are ready to go.

"I'll drop you guys off and order some pizza."

A chorus of thank you's follow. Dave all but ignores you on the way back, this time being distracted by his friends, who are all surprisingly chatty. They have him talking more than you've heard of him all week. You have no trouble letting them run to Dave's room and holing up for the rest of the day. You go back to relaxing for a bit, then heading off to work.

. . . . .

In the wee hours of the morning, after they all managed to pass out and you get home, you find a single new video on Dave's channel. You click the link and it opens.

His smiling face greets the camera.

"Hey guys! Dave here. So today is December 3rd, about…nine PM, and today marks one month post-op." He looks to the side, where giggles can be heard, and shushes them.

"He's so serious when he's filming," you hear Rose say.

Dave clears his throat loudly and ironically. "AHEM. Right. Today I was going to show off my scars, but it's my birthday and I've got a very special--oh, will you guys hush for two seconds!"

His Texas drawl is suddenly evident, and you smirk as a peal of laughter follows it. His drawl is only evident either when he's not paying attention (like when he's mad) or when he's drunk; there was the one time he broke into your booze store, which was actually pretty hilarious. Dave blushes and beckons them onto the screen. "Looks like I'm not escaping you assholes."

"Aw, Dave~" Jade slides in next to him. "We came all this way to see you!"

John interjects. "Yeah man! The least you can do is be nice!"

"Alright alright, fine. I give up. Ladies and gentlemen, I'm joined with my friends Jade, John, and Rose. Call it a birthday colab."

They all squeeze into the screen, with some difficulty.

"This isn't really made for filming four people, is it?"

"Of course not Egderp, I'm usually in here alone, in case you never noticed."

Rose smiled. "It's only to be expected. Though your room is smaller than I anticipated."

"Can we please go back to making the video?" Dave asks, practically pleading. He's so out of character it's funny. You can't help but chuckle. "We had a plan, and I have a game. Right, today we're going to play Cards Against Humanity. First person to five wins."

"Just five?" John butts in. "Dude, too short. At least eight."

"Eights a good number!"

"I second it."

"I wasn't asking for opinions!"

The video cuts after a bit of laughing to them set up on the floor playing the game.

You think they're absolutely ridiculous. All four of them. But seeing Dave actually struggling to keep his poker face at some of the responses, to blush and be flustered, to laugh, to allow a bit of pushing around from his friends, is nice. It makes you happy.

You hear a quick step in the kitchen. Dave. There's no question about it. You scoot over, moving the laptop to you thighs. He joins you on the couch a moment later.

"You seriously watch this crap?"

"It's ironically entertaining."

"Right."

You reach over and pull Dave into a sideways hug. He fights you for a moment before sighing and succumbing to said fate. "What?"

"Nothing. Just wanted to."

"Ironically?"

"Naw."

Dave shifts a bit so his head is resting on your shoulder. You reach up and ruffle his hair.

"Happy Birthday, li'l man."

He sits up suddenly, catching you by surprise. You frown.

"What?"

"That's the first time you've even called me a man."

Was it really? You never noticed. So you smile a bit and nod.

"'Cuz that's what you are."

Dave chews his lip again, standing. He heads back towards his room where his friends are sleeping. You stand to take your leave too. Then he turns and hugs you around the middle.

"Thanks Bro." He lets go, back to the Dave he always is. "Goodnight."

"G'night."

And life went on.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for taking the time to stumble across and read this fic. If you could please leave me feedback it would be much appreciated. FtM!Dave is one of my favorite headcanons, and I would love to hear other opinions on the matter. Many thanks.  
> -pp  
>  **EDIT:** I've decided to also post this work on my 2nd Tumblr dedicated entirely to Homestuck: a-hopeful-page-with-wings. So if you happen to find that fic floating around on Tumblr, it's still me here. Just under a different username.


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